


Breaking Down

by lornrocks



Series: Wall Conjecture [2]
Category: Fandom: Heroes
Genre: Cliffhanger, M/M, Sequel, Slash, allmyfangirldreamscometrue, hoplesslyromantic, hotelsexpart2, ooc, probably, season4, written before the wall or brave new world aired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:57:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornrocks/pseuds/lornrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Climbing". Before they can defeat Samuel, Peter and Sylar have to deal with some other issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Down

It's late afternoon.

Sylar's been awake for awhile, waiting for Peter to stir. He's moving a little and making strange groaning noises, peppered with occasional "no's", so he figures he'll let him finish dreaming.

He stares at Peter's hands.

The power Peter mentioned the night before was a mystery to Sylar. He didn't know when he got it. He doesn't know when, which is odd. Angela Petrelli had told him that he was more powerful than he knew, back when he believed himself to be her son.

Maybe she was right?

All he knew was that he didn't steal the power from anyone else. Maybe he was born with it. He didn't know.

What he did know what that he had spent the past few weeks, since he got his body back, dream stalking Peter. It was his guilty pleasure. He wasn't sure if Peter would ever catch on, but judging by the fact that the youngest Petrelli was now curled up in bed next to him, he'd say he got the message loud and clear.

Still, the reaction he received was a surprise. Peter did hate him; he knew this, if the memories from their confrontation in the hospital were any indication.

That didn't really explain why Peter saved him from the nightmare Matt had put him in.

He remembered now, how he went to Matt for help and Matt had hurt him, lied to him- and Peter, he was there, like the knight in shining armor he always wanted to be. At first, Sylar thought he was hallucinating, after spending three years by himself, but then, he could feel it. He wasn't alone anymore.

He could have kissed Peter right then and there.

But he didn't.

The only way to get Sylar out of this prison Parkman had put him in was to break down this block that was put in his head. They tried so hard; but it wasn't budging. Peter had told him that Sylar had to get out, because Peter had seen him saving the world, so to speak. He had told him that he knew deep down that Sylar was a good person, and that everyone deserves a fresh start. Even Gabriel Gray.

He thought about reaching out and grabbing Peter's hand. But right when he had this thought, Peter start to move his head back and forth violently. More words spilled from his lips, and then he was sitting up and panting and looking around wildly.

"What did you see?" Sylar asks, and Peter turns to look at him. After regaining his breath, Peter replies,

"We're going to need some help."

Sylar tilts his head to the side.

"Help to defeat Samuel?"

Peter swallows, nods, and takes a deep breath. He makes like he's going to stand up, but seems to suddenly remember last night's events and his face takes a deep crimson color.

"I think it's a little late to be timid, Peter," Sylar drawls, leaning back and maybe trying just a little too hard to look non-chalant and enticing.

Peter ignores the other man's remark and stands up. With as much dignity as he can muster, he walks to the bathroom that connects to the bedroom. Maybe it's just Sylar's imagination, but he swears Peter is sashaying his hips a little more than normal. Not that it bother him, of course.

He takes the opportunity to pull some pants on. Peter reemerges with a black shirt on and some boxer briefs. His pants, Sylar recalls, were left in the hallway. He represses a smile as Peter sighs and heads out to get them.

Once they're both dressed, they order some room service and sit down for breakfast. Peter's the first to speak.

"In my dream, we both end up getting overpowered and die."

"What, no _'Good morning Sylar, thanks for rocking my world last night'_?" Sylar jokes, and Peter's barely stifled laugh makes him feel just a little warmer inside.

"How did we die?" he asks, getting serious.

"Well, I got a rock through the chest and ended up bleeding out slowly."

"And me?"

"You got beheaded."

"Charming." Sylar takes a bite of his Belgian waffles.

Peter's face is grim as he takes a sip of his coffee.

"So, I'm thinking we need to find other people with abilities who are against the carnival, and that way, they can help us."

Sylar chews, thinks.

"Everyone hates me, Peter. No one's going to help us if I'm involved."

"That's not true. Let's see, there's Mohinder..."

"Hates me more than life itself."

"Claire and Noah?"

"Would kill me themselves."

"Hiro and Ando?"

"Pretty sure they hate me, yeah."

"Okay, what about..."

Fifteen minutes later, Peter comes to the conclusion that Sylar might actually be right. Everyone really does hate the man sitting across from him, who's busily cutting up another waffle.

"No wonder you feel so alone," Peter murmers, and Sylar's cutting stops. His eyes flicker up to Peter's.

"I don't feel alone anymore," he says just as quietly back, and Peter can't look away. It would be too cruel.

"Sylar..." he begins, and then finds no words. "Did you...say what I...think you said last night?"

Sylar has put down his knife and fork and is staring straight at a glass of milk sitting across from him. He tries to say something, but he can't. Every time he's told someone he cared about them, they hurt him, or they leave him, or something happens, and he panics. They end up dead. Sylar doesn't want that to happen to Peter, not the one person who came for him when no one else would.

The fact that Peter saved him speaks volumes for the other man's compassion. Sylar had killed his brother in cold blood and Peter is able to push that aside for the greater good, or whatever.

"No."

Peter looks down and then they continue eating in silence for a while. Afterwards, they stand awkwardly in the kitchen.

"What are we going to do?" Peter asks, and for once, the other man is at loss for words.

"I don't know."

He purses his lips and then adds, "Let me fix your empathy."

Peter puts his mug down.

"What?"

"You'll never survive against Samuel if you expect to just keep taking other people's powers. Let me fix your empathy, and then you can take all my powers. Then you can use more than one power at once, and...and then you can't die."

Peter's eyes are boring into his own. He looks upset, or maybe torn.

"I can't do that."

"Why not? You don't think I can fix it?"

"It's not that."

Sylar steps forward.

"Then what is it?"

Peter almost flinches but steels himself and doesn't move back like he desperately wants to.

He bites his lip and says, quietly, "I don't want to be a monster like you."

It feels like it did when Peter shoved that needle into Sylar's neck. He clenches his fists.

"Are you calling me a monster?"

Peter's face suddenly loses its tension as he holds up his hands defensively.

"That's not what I mean!" he tries, but realizes it's too late. "Don't you remember the last time I had your power? I tried to kill my mom. I tried to kill you."

Sylar shakes his head.

"You're not going to be like that, again. I know it. Your heart is stronger than mine." He tries to get Peter to look at him but the other man is looking away. Finally, he speaks.

"Why won't you tell me the real reason you want to fix me?"

Sylar's eyes narrow.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Why don't you tell me the real reason you want to fix me is because you care enough to want to keep me alive?"

Peter's words hurt, but they're true.

He takes another step until he's almost flush against Peter.

"If that's what you think this is about," he growls, low and angry. His defenses are up again, despite the overwhelming need to stop pushing people away.

"Yeah, it is," Peter says right back. Their eyes lock together, a game of chicken between wills, before Sylar takes a step back.

"I can't."

Peter shakes his head angrily and heads in the direction of the other bedroom. Calling over his shoulder, he says "Let me know when you're ready to admit some things to yourself," and then the door slams shut.

Sylar has followed him, but at the sound of the click of Peter locking his door, he rests his forehead against the cool wood. He desperately wants to knock on the door and apologize and tell Peter he's absolutely right.

But he can't.

He grabs his coat from where they left it on the floor and heads out the door to take a walk.

Peter, meanwhile, finds himself sitting on the floor of the bathroom, in the dark, staring at the ceiling. He's not sure what just happened. He tries not to think about it, and instead focuses on saving Emma and stopping Samuel.

His phone rings. It's his mom. He answers.

"Hello."

"Peter, may I ask what has happened since we last spoke?" Her voice is clipped, clinical.

"I think you already know the answer to that, Ma."

He hears what sounds vaguely like a scoff.

"Or I wouldn't have called. What were you thinking? That man is insane."

Peter sighs.

"I know, Ma."

"He killed your brother!"

" _I know._ "

"So why did you sleep with him? What is so alluring about him that you just had to have sex with him? Nevermind I have to find out via a dream that my own son is harboring homosexual tendencies-"

"MOM."

"Peter."

"Are you going to tell me how long you've known this was going to happen, or are you just going to keep yelling?"

There's a silence. At first Peter thinks his mom hung up, but he hears quiet breathing.

"It was a little while after Sylar got his body back," she begins, and then seems to think better of it.

"I never thought it would actually come true."

"Well it did, Ma, and I'm not sorry. Look, I love you, but there's some stuff I need to do. Call me if you see anything that can help me with the carnival, okay?"

His mom sighs and agrees. After Peter hangs up, he settles back and closes his eyes. He tries to dream, but can't. When he reopens his eyes, he realizes that he's been sleeping for a few hours.

Groaning, he stands up and looks out the window of the bedroom. The sun is starting to go down the late winter sky, and there's rain clouds in the distance. Sylar hasn't been back, Peter ventures to guess. He heads to the balcony and sits down on a padded bench.

A few minutes after watching the first few rays of sun die down, Peter realizes he's not alone. He turns his head carefully and then looks back. He says nothing, but Sylar assumes it's okay to sit down next to the other man.

Peter doesn't look at him, but he speaks anyway.

"I'm only going to say this once. You were completely right. About everything."

Sylar whispers, "Peter," and when the other man turns to look at him, he pulls down his collar. There, in a strange dark ink right below his left collar bone, is a tattoo of Peter.

Peter, who has become familiar with Lydia's power, reaches a tentative hand out to touch. The skin beneath him shivers a little at his touch, and he slides his hand up to cup the back of Sylar's neck.

He brings their lips together and Sylar's quick to slide his hands around Peter and bring him closer. The other man is quick to groan when Peter digs his nails into the flesh beneath his hands.

When Sylar feels a sensation like something being taken from him, he opens his eyes and pulls back.

"Are you sure?" he asks, and the younger man shrugs.

"We may as well try," Peter replies, and then slides his hands up Sylar's shirt. It tingles, Sylar decides, as Peter newly restored empathy starts to mimic Sylar's powers.

Somehow they end up tangled together, with Peter's legs hooked around Sylar's. Wordlessly, Peter stands up, grabs Sylar's hand, and pulls him back into their room. When they get back inside the same bedroom from the night before, Peter drops the other man's hand and turns around.

"If you love me, show me. I want to see how much you care. I want to feel it."

They end up tangled on the bed again, but this time, Peter lets Sylar stay on top.

"Peter," he moans, mouthing at the other man's neck. "God, I love you," he plants a gentle kiss.

The object of his affections laces his fingers in the other man's hair.

"Gabriel," he soothes, "Fuck me."

They somehow get over whatever reservations they had the night before, because Peter ends up on his back, legs wrapped around Sylar's hips as the other man pounds into him in a staccato rhythm that is driving him crazy.

"I wish it could always be like this," Sylar pants, dark eyes sweeping across Peter' face.

"Yeah," Peter nods, and closes his eyes.

Sylar slides his hand between them and starts to jerk the other man's cock in time to his thrusts, and Peter's eyelids flutter as he opens his eyes and looks at the other man. With a catch of his breath, Peter comes, and Sylar follows soon after.

Sylar stays there for what seems like an eternity before running a hand down the side of Peter's face and offering a shaky smile.

Peter turns his head away.

"I wish I could tell you that I love you back," he whispers, and Sylar can't help the feeling of being used from creeping into his brain. "But I can't right now," Peter continues.

Sylar looks down, but when Peter grabs his hand and places Sylar's hand over his heart, Sylar looks back up.

"I can't let myself love you until I can forgive you for everything you've done, and I can't do that until I've forgiven myself first."

Sylar feels Peter's heart beating from underneath his fingertips.

"Please don't lose faith," Peter begs, and Sylar leans his forehead against Peter's.

"I'll try not to," he says, and then pulls Peter down with him on the bed.

Their plan is to leave early the next morning for the carnival.

They sleep.

The next morning, they dress quietly, grab some food, and head off, Sylar driving. Peter still has the compass on his arm. They sit in silence as the sun rises. They get to the field outside the carnival, and sit in the car.

"We could still die," Peter whispers, and Sylar tries his trademark cocky grin.

"I'm sure we'll be fine."

His words sound put on, but he doesn't want to let on how unsure he is. Without another word, he opens the car door and starts to get out. A hand on his wrist stops him.

Before he can ask Peter what's wrong, the other man speaks.

"I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> Written forever ago on LJ.


End file.
